


play me beauty

by PoisonedMind



Category: Phandom/The Fantastic Foursome (YouTube RPF)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Apocalypse, Apocalypse, Established Relationship, M/M, Survival, piano playing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-24
Updated: 2019-09-24
Packaged: 2020-10-27 13:13:29
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,255
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20760917
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PoisonedMind/pseuds/PoisonedMind
Summary: There’s a piano. It’s not in the corner of the room nor in the centre but rather placed awkwardly to the side. As if it’s a keepsake of half-forgotten times. Dan dusts off the keys and pushes down with a delicate finger. Only a mutilated mumble of a note crawls out.It’s broken. Just like the world.





	play me beauty

**Author's Note:**

> Written for [phandom fic fests'](https://phandomficffests.tumblr.com) bingo 2019 fest and the prompt: apocalypse.

It’s dark inside the house. 

There are no curtains in the windows keeping the sun from lighting up the room. In fact, there’s no glass in most of them, and the breeze is swampy against Phil’s skin. 

It’s the middle of the day, and it’s still dark because there’s simply no sun in the sky to bring any light at all. 

Dan says it’ll come back. Phil’s starting to doubt if it’s even there anymore. 

It’s the fourth house they’ve searched this week, and Phil thinks this one will have to do for now. He’s getting tired. 

Dan’s in the living room. In here, the windows do have curtains. Long, pale sheets and the wind grabs them from time to time as if even nature is trying to hold on to something. 

There’s a floor-to-ceiling window, and Dan’s standing in front of it. He’s looking out but there’s nothing to look out at, and Phil thinks he’s doing that thing again. That thing where he disappears for a little while. 

Phil lets him. Lets him escape for as long as he can. He needs it to stay sane, Phil reckons. 

He does walk up to him, though, just to stay close. That’s what Phil needs to stay sane. Dan close. Dan close and safe and happy and by now only one of those things is possible, so Phil craves it. 

“If you stare for long enough,” Dan whispers, his voice barely louder than a sigh, “the darkness starts to move, y’know.”

Phil knows. They both know. Countless nights and days spent just staring into the dark and they both know it’ll drive anyone insane. 

When Dan had found the fireplace, Phil knew this house would serve as their temporary sanctuary for a while. But standing here, listening to Dan’s breathing, in front of a huge floor-to-ceiling window, it feels reminiscent of the home they had wanted to build together once. 

The glass is still attached to the window frame, albeit cracked. Phil reckons a gust of wind could take it down any minute. 

He starts a fire, just a small one, to give them the illusion of safety. It’s made of stone, the fireplace, and perhaps it would’ve been a rather lovely room if the windows weren’t shattered, and the sun would shine in through them.

The flames crackle as they feast on the timber, and he wonders briefly if the fire feels hunger like the human body. 

Dan moves. Phil can hear his feet shuffle on the floor, the wooden planks groaning as he finds the sore spots. 

Then he stops.

“Phil,” he says. 

Phil turns around and follows Dan’s stare.

There’s a piano. 

It’s not in the corner of the room nor in the centre but rather placed awkwardly to the side. As if it’s a keepsake of half-forgotten times. The faint light of the fire dances on its side. It’s black, Phil guesses, that’s why they hadn’t noticed it before. 

A sheet crumples on it, hiding a part of the piano, and Phil pulls it off. There’s a cloud of dust and debris raining all around them but the part that was hidden, protected, is shiny, and it wraps itself in the light, ravenous for it, just like they are. 

It brightens the room only slightly more, but every beam of light, every photon, is golden.

Dan dusts off the keys and pushes down with a delicate finger. Only a mutilated mumble of a note crawls out.

It’s broken. Just like the world.

***

They stay at the house for weeks.

It’s not ideal, there’s far to go for food, but Phil doesn’t want to leave before they’re forced to. He thinks Dan feels the same. 

The piano is something new. Normally, the houses are empty. No furniture, no signs of people living there, nothing. Nothing except destruction and echos.

They had spent a day cleaning it and now, when the fire gets going, the light reflects off it and brightens the room. Makes the shadows dance. 

Sometimes, it feels a bit like hope. 

***

“I wish the moon could still shine,” Dan says. 

They’re sitting in front of the floor-to-ceiling window, staring out into the dark. The sun is gone, but at night it’s as if even the thought of light is sucked out, like a black hole. 

Phil squeezes Dan’s hand. It’s always wrapped around his at night, and Dan doesn’t go anywhere unless Phil goes with him. 

Phil says, “I wish anything could still shine.”

He can’t really see it, but he feels Dan turn his head to look at him. 

“The piano shines when the fire’s on,” he murmurs and bumps the tip of his nose against Phil’s cheek. It’s cold. “And, if you think about it, the fire is basically our own personal sun, isn’t it?” 

It’s funny, kind of, Phil thinks. Before, Dan was the one who let gloom and doom dominate his world, and Phil was the one who always lightened up the mood. Now, Phil can’t seem to find any light to do that. 

He stares at the wall of black surrounding them, and he wants to laugh. It’s funny, kind of. Dan’s always been the one with the dark humour, cracking jokes even in the worst of times. 

It’s funny, kind of, how Dan manages to make him want to smile even when there’s nothing to smile for. Even when there’s nothing, in general. No stars, flowers, dogs. No art, wonders, beauty.

“There really isn’t any beauty left, is there?” he asks. 

Dan sighs. He presses his lips against Phil’s cheek and it makes Phil shiver. They’re cold, too.

“There is,” Dan says, a sudden determination laced in his words. “We just can’t see it anymore.”

***

Phil keeps finding Dan sitting at the piano bench. Or with his head buried under the lid. He doesn’t know why he tries, the piano is broken.

One day, Dan pulls at Phil’s sleeve and tells him to close his eyes. He can hear Dan move, the floorboards aching, Dan breathing. Then there’s a rusty hum of a note, like the piano is just waking up from a slumber. And another one, lighter this time. Less fractured, like it’s only slightly bent, not broken. 

He opens his eyes and there’s Dan, sitting at the piano. His fingers are stiff and hesitant, but the keys go soft under them. 

Dan looks up and smiles at him. It’s small, timid, but a smile, and it feels like forever since Phil’s witnessed a wonder like this. 

“Dan,” he says, but Dan simply holds a finger to his lips. Then he sighs and plays tag with the keys on his right. The notes spring from the piano, sharp and rugged, but as Dan tickles the keys down towards the middle, the tunes sound more like laughter. 

Phil watches Dan. Watches his back straighten, his shoulders relax. His foot tapping the floor to the rhythm of the sounds. The fire crackles as if trying to sing the melody, too. 

Dan’s illuminated by the flames, soft shadows and warm light shifting across his face, and Phil feels his heart beat with every press of a key. 

It’s been so long since Phil has heard him play. And seeing him now, his breaths in tune with every rise and fall of the notes that spill all around them, Phil just stares. 

Stares until his eyes sting. So he closes his eyes again and listens.

The piano is still broken but to Phil, the music is beautiful.

**Author's Note:**

> hope you liked it!!
> 
> if you did, you'd make a girl (me) real happy by reblogging/liking the post on [tumblr](https://bie-lovers.tumblr.com/post/187923852321/play-me-beauty).


End file.
